


Her Ardor, Her Ire

by wigglewyrms (KeyholeCat)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4626912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeyholeCat/pseuds/wigglewyrms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin has come to move around Lucina like a dance, floating from task to task feeling her every movement analyzed with a gaze clouded with distrust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Ardor, Her Ire

**Author's Note:**

> Still waiting for God to reach down and crush me under his big, shiny thumb, so in the meantime I've procured a hefty harvest of Sin, AKA Baby's First Smutfic.

Weeks have led up to this moment, days of thinly veiled accusations and curt replies, of sharp, blue eyes following their target throughout the camp and across the battlefield. Robin has come to move around Lucina like a dance, floating from task to task feeling her every movement analyzed with a gaze clouded with distrust. The hostility has become so palpable that Chrom, _Chrom_ of all people, detected it and moved in to remind them both, true to his role as their noblest of leaders, that they must focus their attentions on their true enemy, not on phantom foes lurking in the hearts of their comrades. He hadn’t put it so eloquently, of course, but Lucina understood.

But even newer habits prove difficult to shake, and Lucina finds her gaze trailing after Robin’s form long after the embarrassment of their confrontation has faded.

It’s still there, that mistrust stuck tightly in a thick, suffocating web of respect and shame. She stretches her hand outwards and feels its strings pull on her skin, on her fingers, even as they curl around the source of that tension. She tugs the heavy cloak towards her, and as Robin is drawn forward Lucina thinks that maybe she’ll threaten her, maybe she’ll hiss promises of a cold blade at her throat, because she’d rather take her chances fighting in an army with a corpse for a tactician than see this woman ruin everything they had built. But Robin closes the distance, and her lips are so warm and so soft and so _there_ , any fatal promises catch in Lucina’s throat and recede to the shadows of her mind.

But silencing Lucina was never Robin’s intention. Even as she kisses her, Lucina’s lips are thin and tense, locking away all of her ardor, her ire, everything she keeps close to her breast, and everything Robin wants. Tenderly, she moves her fingertips over the planes of Lucina’s cheek until they are buried between thick locks of hair. Lucina tilts her head and leans forward into the kiss, but it is still too chaste, too reserved, and so Robin curls her fingers and tugs gently, easing Lucina’s face upward and forcing a soft gasp. Robin meets her parted lips with another kiss, this time daring to sample their taste with the tip of her tongue against chapped skin. Lucina grips at Robin’s cloak, concentrating very hard on matching the pace of Robin’s lips. Robin stifles a smile and brushes her tongue against the other’s. A soft whine escapes from Lucina’s throat, the first sound she’s uttered in Robin’s presence in days, at long last.

Lucina hates it all, hates how she finds it harder and harder to keep her composure, hates how she arches and presses herself flush against Robin when she feels a hand at her lower back, hates the way her mind buzzes at the feeling of Robin’s lips, teeth, and tongue working at the curve of her neck. She clutches at the tactician’s coat as though drawing them closer together will ease the burden of her frustration.

But then, Robin pauses to retreat and shrug off her cloak, and Lucina is forced to properly look at the woman straddling her lap. Her pleated shirt hangs loosely, its neckline dipping a bit too low for Lucina to consider decent. But then, she knows such a thought is laced with bias. Her skin is dark and dappled with red in the glow of the fading sunlight filtering through the leaves. It is an attractive sight that serves only to deepen Lucina’s jealousy and wariness of this woman, this woman who never leaves her father’s side and defies Lucina’s doubts with every scar she takes for their cause.

Robin cups Lucina’s cheek in her hand, admiring the way the dying light glitters in her eyes. There is anger within them, certainly, but also pain and confusion, all of which Robin has tried time and time again to ease. But Lucina is as stubborn as her father and receives every peace offering with an icy demeanor. Even now, as Lucina pulls her back into an embrace, there is a tension that crackles between them, a bottled resentment that shows in the way Lucina rakes her fingertips across the threads of Robin’s shirt and scrapes her teeth against Robin’s bottom lip.

Robin would like to say she is doing this solely to alleviate the strain between them, but gods, would she be lying. Everything about Lucina calls to her, from the cut of her jaw to the rasp of her voice to the strength of her grasp. And so here she is, listening to the way Lucina’s breath trembles at her ear as Robin brings her hand to the junction of the princess’s legs.

“Do you want this?” Robin breathes.

Lucina hesitates. She doesn’t want to want it. She wants to say her body has betrayed her heart. But she knows it isn’t true, not anymore, especially when Robin begins to stroke her through the fabric of her pants and Lucina lifts her hips to meet her.

Lucina swallows hard, for the first time realizing just how dry her throat is. She must stifle a groan before croaking, “I do.”

Robin tugs at the blue jerkin in a silent plea. Lucina lifts her arms and wriggles out of it, letting Robin toss it to where her cloak, boots, and sword lie. Robin moves her hands to fumble with the remaining clothes, but Lucina grasps her face and kisses her without yield. Robin relents and hums into her lips, her mind too thick and sluggish to form any semblance of protest.

But as her fingers travel over the clothing covering Lucina’s body, she realizes she has no idea just where the noble’s shirt ends and her pants begin. She breaks away and examines Lucina’s abdomen only to realize that the entire outfit is connected. “Um,” she says.

Robin thinks she sees Lucina smile for a moment, or perhaps it’s a trick of the scattered light. Either way, Lucina clicks her tongue and reaches behind her to undo the line of buttons down her back. She peels away the fabric from her body and Robin blushes for the first time that evening.

It is not the way Robin stares that makes Lucina realize just how vulnerable she is in this state. Nor is it the feeling of fingers tracing along her face, her thigh, or her chest. It is the feeling of soft grass tickling her legs and rigid bark leaving scar-like depressions up and down the skin of her back. She weaves green blades between her fingers and concentrates on the feeling of a woman’s hands upon her. Thumbs circle hip bones, palms cup breasts, and eventually a set of fingertips trails up Lucina’s throat and guides her into a slow kiss. The other hand descends and slips a finger inside her.

Robin keeps her there as she works her fingers in and out at a painfully languid pace. Lucina’s breath shudders against Robin’s lips, and she wants to pull her closer, to have that contact again, to whisper curses into Robin’s ear, but the most she allows herself to do is to dig her fingers further into the grass and lean her head back against the tree trunk supporting her.

Once Robin loses patience with her own speed, however, her touch is no longer consistent; her fingers’ movement is interrupted by sudden twists and changes in pace. Sometimes she stops to circle Lucina’s clit roughly, changes directions frequently, and then dips back inside her to curl or spread her fingers. Lucina can’t keep up with it all, can’t match her pace or find the right position to hold herself. She would feel like a fool if she weren’t focusing so hard on keeping her groans locked tightly behind her teeth.

Robin manages to find a spot that sends waves of heat shooting from her core to her limbs. Lucina’s hand flies to her own mouth in time to muffle a cry. She can’t take much more of this, she knows, but gods, she doesn’t want to give Robin the satisfaction of witnessing her release.

Fortunately, Robin has similar concerns. She withdraws her fingers from Lucina entirely and rests her hand on Lucina’s knee.

Lucina blinks rapidly as though to dispel the haze in her head. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve seen you watching me.” Robin sits back on her heels. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Is now really the time?” Lucina’s voice is strained. She closes her legs, but it does nothing to quell the ache centered between them. She curses herself for having restraint in the heat of the moment. Had she known Robin would actually try to _talk_ to her...

“Why? Do you have somewhere else to be?” Robin raises a hand—the very same she had just been using—and drags her fingers along Lucina’s cheek, leaving a slick trail. “Is there something you need from me, Lucina?” Her fingers cross the corner of her mouth and start to prod at her lips.

Lucina swats her wrist away. “You’re disgusting,” she snaps. And she really is; Lucina is revolted by this smirking woman who knows exactly how to wrench the anger from the depths of her being and toy with it like a cat and its prey. Lucina would spit in her direction, but she is afraid that Robin would welcome it.

“I’ll give you a choice, then,” says Robin, who reclaims her hand and crosses her arms. “We can sit and talk about your unhealthy fixation on me, and how we can get to the point where we can draw swords together and not fear a stab in the back from the other. Or,” and here Robin smiles sweetly, “you moan my name, and I’ll finish you up quickly. Or slowly, if you prefer.”

Lucina grimaces and peers down her nose at her. There it is, Robin thinks, that noble sneer she has been waiting for. Even the humble Lucina knows how to be a royal brat. Peering at Robin through narrowed eyes, she says, “I don’t see why I have to do either of those things.”

Lucina starts to move a hand as though to touch herself, but Robin grabs it and the other and pins them to the ground. “Don’t you?” says Robin.

The princess grits her teeth. For a moment, Robin thinks she might pull her hands away and end their game (an easy feat, for Lucina is much stronger than her), but she remains still and says, “A tactician in and out of combat, I see. Perhaps you should save the strategies for the battlefield.”

“You think this could work on the enemy? That’s not a bad idea. Testing in a controlled environment is always a good idea first, though, where applicable.” She raises Lucina’s hands and presses them against the trunk behind her.

“Gods, will you stop talking so m—” Whatever Lucina wanted to say next dissipates in an airy sigh. Robin has taken the opportunity to grind her thigh slowly between Lucina’s legs.

Lucina grunts and tries to roll her hips, but Robin is pressed too closely; propped up on her leg, sandwiched between her body and the tree trunk, there isn’t enough room to maneuver properly. The most Lucina can do is spur herself agonizingly close to the edge again, but it’s not enough, even with Robin’s lips and tongue making their way up Lucina’s jawline and down her neck.

She nearly loses it right there, nearly moans Robin’s name into her ear, but she feels Robin waver beneath her. She manages to regain her balance, but her legs tremble.

Lucina laughs weakly. “You can’t remain in this position forever.”

“No,” Robin admits, “but neither can you. That is to say, I didn’t think you had such an interest in orgasm denial.”

“ _Robin,_ ” Lucina snaps.

“That doesn’t count.”

“Perhaps you are not as skilled as you—” Lucina’s taunt is lost in a sudden moan.

“Pardon?” Robin rubs her thigh hard against Lucina in a steady rhythm. Lucina’s head is swimming now, her breaths coming short and ragged.

But Robin slows to a standstill again. “ _Robin!_ ” Lucina shouts.

“You do know what I mean by ‘moan’, don’t you?”

“Damn you,” Lucina curses through shuddering breath. “Please…”

It is enough. Robin’s smile is soft as her fingertips drift down Lucina’s forearms. She kisses Lucina’s lips, her throat, between her breasts, her stomach. Lucina’s pulse quickens when she realizes just where she is headed. Robin kneads Lucina’s thighs, wordlessly begging them to spread.

The kiss following the one against Lucina’s lower abdomen is not where she expects, nor where she hopes; rather, Robin leaves a trail of kisses up and down Lucina’s inner thigh, her lips lingering on each spot, savoring the warmth and softness of Lucina’s skin.

But Lucina has had enough of gentle kissing. When Robin moves to kiss her other leg, Lucina stops her with a hand to her face. Robin locks eyes with her, and Lucina’s heart stutters and sends a rush of crimson to her cheeks. How ridiculous they must look, Lucina nude and splayed before the fully-clothed tactician. How ridiculous it was that mere hours earlier, she had been repulsed by the mere idea of associating with the woman. How ridiculous it was that she hadn’t had the sense to drag Robin into her tent weeks ago.

Robin guides Lucina’s hips upwards with a palm to her rear and presses her lips between Lucina’s legs in a final soft kiss. Lucina bites her lip, ensuring that the only sound she makes is the air quivering through her teeth. But when Robin’s tongue slips out and traces a circle around Lucina’s clit, a moan escapes her throat, low and loud and rough enough to surprise the both of them. Robin hums appreciatively and licks a broad stroke up Lucina’s flesh. Lucina groans and buries her hand into white, silken hair. Robin responds by wrapping her arms around Lucina’s thighs to support her partner’s trembling legs. The tactician’s tongue traces patterns and shapes around the tender skin, earning her every sound out of Lucina that she could ever want. Before long, a second hand grasps Robin’s head and curls fingers into her hair. Robin loses track of her own strategic movements and decides, hang it, Lucina is too far gone to notice her lapping like a novice, if she could even recognize the difference in the first place.

Lucina’s pitch rises to a feverish tone, and she is so close, but it’s just not enough; she floats somewhere between bliss and an uncomfortable pressure. “ _Robin,_ ” she begs, her throat raw from exertion.

She feels one of Robin’s arms release a thigh. Fingers re-enter her only moments before a powerful sensation grips her, something like pain mixed with pleasure shooting through her writhing form. Her groans become short and rapid, and her fingertips scrape against Robin’s scalp. Robin moans into her. Lucina follows suit, the remainder of her climax escaping along with it.

For some time she feels as though she is floating, kept alight by aftershocks given by Robin’s teasing tongue. But soon a strange sense of peace sinks through her form, as though a veil of soothing energy has fallen over her.

“Mm… that’s enough, I think.” She gently tips Robin’s face upward with a knuckle.

Robin stares at her through half-lidded eyes. Then her face flushes and she averts her gaze. “Right. Sorry.” She takes Lucina’s hands and helps them both to their feet. Robin hears the soft babble of flowing water, and for the first time she remembers she had originally come to examine the small stream here. “We should, uh, probably get you washed up before we head back.”

“I can take care of that myself, thank— _hssst!”_ Lucina winces at the woman’s touch.

Robin jumps and snatches her hands away. “Gods! What is it now?”

She watches as Lucina reaches a hand to the offended area and finds blood smeared across her fingers. "Ah," says the noble, "the tree trunk."

Indeed, there are shallow scratches up and down Lucina’s back, marks that could have easily been left by rough bark.

Robin laughs. “Oh. I didn't even consider that. I guess I should hang up my tactician’s cloak, huh?”

“Or we can choose a more appealing location the next time we—”

Lucina stops there. Robin raises her eyebrows.

“...Pardon. I only suggest that your next intimate partner may appreciate somewhere more... comfortable. And discreet.” Even in the fading light, Lucina’s flushed skin seems to glow.

Robin’s lips curl in a knowing smirk. “Very well. Thank you for the advice, your Highness.”

“My pleasure.” Lucina takes a tentative step into the water. “If you would… please turn around and keep watch until I finish.”

Robin blinks. It’s an oddly trusting request from someone who she vividly remembers threatening her on multiple occasions. “Of course. I’ll be here if you need me.” She turns and stares into the line of trees surrounding them, though her mind troubles at a small hope she’d rather not put into words just yet.

Until then, she focuses on the dull burn of blessed blood on her fingertips.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Writer's Day, everyone!


End file.
